Colton Family Showdown. Regan BlackЧитать онлайн книгу.
Evening was going toward dark and Fox Colton whistled as he pulled up to the big red barn that meant everything to him. The home he needed and the work he loved under one classic metal roof. He’d never tire of that sense of accomplishment. He’d made something out of nothing with more than forty good acres of the Crooked C ranch. A prime opportunity had become a thriving horse-breeding business.
There were days when it seemed too good to be true.
Against the deepening sky, the barn stood out in silhouette. Fox was weary, but in a way that filled him with immense satisfaction. It had been a long couple of days making sure things ran smoothly on both his brother’s side of the ranch and his own. Wyatt was rightly preoccupied with his wife, Bailey, as she delivered their new son, Hudson Earl Colton.
Once he’d finished the ranch work last night, he’d gone to the hospital and waited with the rest of the family, trying to cover his uneasiness with quiet confidence that his sister-in-law and the baby would be just fine. Turned out having been on hand for his mares through countless foals didn’t actually make waiting for a new niece or nephew less stressful. But seeing the stars in Wyatt’s eyes as he held his son made being there worth it.
Fox picked up his phone, intending to give his brother a text update on the day’s activities at the ranch before he went inside. There were a slew of emails waiting for his attention and as soon as he dipped a toe into that water, he’d be sunk for the night. It was one of the best perks of loving his work.
Instead, when he opened the messaging app, he found another baby picture from the proud daddy. Fox chuckled. He could hardly blame Wyatt. The newborn was unquestionably adorable. He sent back a quick aww in reply and then added the ranch update. The recent challenges of a murder victim, a dead bull and a barn fire on the Crooked C had left Wyatt and Fox, along with their hired crew and the Roaring Springs law enforcement, on high alert for anything out of the ordinary.
Pocketing his phone, Fox hopped out of the truck and started for the house. He had a thick burger on his mind for dinner, after a shower and a change of clothes. Inside the door, he pulled off his work boots and ducked into the office for his laptop. He could clear out his email in-box while the meat cooked.
A sticky note on the laptop keyboard caught his attention, and he sat down at his desk, scolding himself for forgetting. He quickly confirmed an interview appointment for tomorrow afternoon with an equine geneticist.
Fox wasn’t particularly in the market for an assistant, though business was booming and he was fielding inquiries from other ranchers looking for bloodstock advice. He leaned back in the chair and stretched his arms overhead, rereading the original query. Maybe it was time to think about expanding. Kelsey Lauder had presented a compelling argument for creating the position and her résumé in equine research impressed him. It never hurt business to extend a courtesy and frankly, he was eager to talk with someone who understood both the science and artistry of horse breeding.
Last season he’d lost three foals to premature delivery, well below the average considering the number of mares he’d bred. Risk of the job, of course, but it was never pleasant for the herd or the crew. Each time, they’d sent off the standard lab tests and worked through each layer of cleanup protocols and herd management. With breeding season done and the herd settled for fall, now was the time to dive deeper into the genetic material if he hoped to find something helpful there. Would Miss Lauder be interested in that sort of research?
His stomach rumbled loudly and Fox realized he’d spent nearly two hours at his desk and still needed that shower and dinner. Closing his laptop, he headed upstairs.
The two-bedroom house he’d built into the second story of the barn was simple and functional and suited him to a tee. When he looked around, he imagined his mom, Dana, beaming with pride at the relaxed and lived-in style. It was certainly easier to conjure that image after his little sister Sloane’s recent visit. She was the spitting image of their mom, though she had no real recollection of their parents. He and his sister had been raised as Coltons, formally adopted by Russ and Mara, Dana’s older sister, after a car crash left them orphans when they were young. Sloane only remembered their second family and there were times when her simpler memories made Fox a little jealous.
Leaving the laptop on the kitchen table, he went straight for the bathroom. He dumped his dirty clothes in the hamper and stepped into the shower, letting the hot spray wash the workday down the drain. Feeling better, he went to his room and pulled on flannel pants and a long-sleeved T-shirt.
Checking the clock, he decided it was too late for a heavy meal, so he heated up a bowl of leftover vegetable soup and sat down to finish clearing his email before turning in for the night. He fell down a rabbit hole of research, reading through a comprehensive report on an herbal supplement found to ease the adverse symptoms of hormonal swings in broodmares.
The sound of a car engine nearby brought him back with a start. He ignored it. A few of the ranch hands had active social lives. As long as the work was done well, the crew could do as they pleased with their personal time. With a sigh, he realized it was after midnight and the horses needed him fresh in a few hours. He switched over from his emails to the breeding log for this season and confirmed which mares were slated for pregnancy verification tests this week.
At last, he closed the laptop and called it a day. Everything else would have to wait until morning. He turned out the lights in the kitchen and padded through the dark hallway to his bedroom.
His head barely touched the pillow when he heard tires on the gravel drive. That car was too close to be headed to the bunkhouse. Fox froze, listening as he reached for his cell phone. After the trouble of the previous months, he couldn’t help being on edge.
When he’d remodeled and repurposed the barn, he’d added a low porch to the front door. One of the wood planks on the second step had been squeaky from the start and when he heard that sound, he was up and out of bed.
Any of the ranch hands would’ve called to let him know about a problem, not just shown up. Phone in hand, he sprinted for the stairs and the front door, grabbing his shotgun on the way. He’d defend his property and let the sheriff sort it out later.
When Fox opened the door, the car was a blur in the night, driving away without headlights. Odds were good the driver would hit a tree or slide off into a ditch, making the sheriff’s work easier. He started out the door, shotgun to his shoulder, and nearly tripped over a bulky object on his welcome mat.
A bag. A baby’s diaper bag. He only recognized the gear because he’d seen plenty of it while Wyatt and Bailey prepared for their son. Next to that was a baby carrier, complete with a sleeping baby, the pacifier loose in his mouth.
Fox flipped the safety and lowered the shotgun. “What the hell?”
The baby gave a start, arms and legs going stiff and his eyes popping open to stare at Fox. His little mouth tugged the pacifier back in tight.
Fox looked around, dumbfounded. “Ha, ha,” he said. He had no idea why anyone would use a real baby in a prank, much less to prank him, but he was ready for the stunt to be over. “You got me,” he called a little louder.
No reply.
He rubbed one bare foot against his calf. Prank or not, the night was too cold to stand out here without warmer clothing.
“You can’t be here,” he said to the baby. The infant was bundled up, but he couldn’t just leave it out here. “You’re not mine.”
The baby didn’t care about Fox’s denial.
He hauled both baby and bag inside, out of the chill. The diaper bag and car seat contraption were in shades of blue, decorated with airplanes, trucks and trains in various bright colors.
“Safe bet is you’re a boy.” This wasn’t one of his foals, so it wasn’t his job to confirm or deny the fact.